


It's Complicated

by OyajiFever



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Pokemorphs, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OyajiFever/pseuds/OyajiFever
Summary: A relationship gets weird in a Pokemon AU where pokemorphs exist for reasons yet unknown and Nintendo never retconned the military out of the franchise.





	It's Complicated

“Ricky!”

“Laaay-luh.” He was across the threshold before she could even invite him in. “You're packing kinda early, aren't you?” He looked back at her with a lopsided grin. “Our lease doesn't start for two months.”

“I'm just excited! I figured I'd start with the the un-necessities.” Layla patted a stack of boxes as tall as she was. The meowth napping on top jolted awake, and shot her a nasty look.

Rick huffed. Layla got on her tiptoes so they were almost eye level...sort of. It was hard, she was an incredibly average 5' 6'' compared to his 6' solid. “Don't do that. Nothing wrong with getting a head start!”

Rick huffed, again. He ruffled her pleasantly pink hair with one comparatively gigantic hand. “There kind of is. You know I came over for a reason.”

Her face went very serious, very quickly. “Right! Right...so, what did you need to talk about?”

“We have to, uh...” He took – engulfed, really – her hand in his, and led her towards the couch. “You're gonna want to sit down for this.”

“Okay, okay. I'm down.” Well, she pushed a box off her side of the couch, and _then_ she was down. “Spit it out, hun. If you're breaking up with me I want to get it over with.”

“We're not breaking up!” He fairly shrieked. Layla smirked as he scrambled to regain composure. “At least, I hope we're not breaking up”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He was starting to sweat, among other things. Layla furrowed her brow as she watched him, this gigantic Alolan man who was very obviously fighting off a panic attack on her couch. “Don't do that, old man.” She couldn't help but grin. “What would Surge say if he saw a big army boy like you squirming around like that?”

He grinned, but it was all teeth and nerves. “Nothing he hasn't c-called me before. And don’t say that - you’re a year older than me.”

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Listen, I’m serious. This is a big thing! I’m a…” Rick took a deep breath and managed to get his breathing back to normal, but couldn't seem to get the shake out of his voice. “I’m. I uh. Okay. Layla.”

“Richard.”

“How long have we been d-doing this?”

“Oh! Yeesh. Well, Wattson introduced us at the Christmas party, and then we were dating by the next one, and now it's July...” She had this thing she did when she was thinking, where she wrinkled her nose and made some sort of frustrated huffing noise until she figured it out. Rick smiled despite himself – it was pretty cute. “...So, a year and some change.”

“Oh good, because I stopped keeping track months ago.”

“They say that's a good sign.” She made a rolling motion with her hand. Get on with it already.

“Okay, okay. My point is, if we're gonna stick with this...I've gotta. G-Gotta be able to tell you everything.”

She nodded.

“And this is sort of...it's a big thing.”

She nodded.

“And if I didn't tell you, you'd f-find out anyway. But I wanna tell you. Because I love you and this is important.”

She nodded. “I love you too, but if you keep beating around the bush I'm _actually_ going to break up with--”

“I'm a morph.”

Well, okay. She went wide-eyed for a moment, before furrowing her brow at him. “You're a...”

He was pale as a ghost at this point. She was starting to think he might faint. “I'm a morph.”

“A morph.” She said. She did her thinking thing again. “A morph. Like...” she pointed at her meowth, who was climbing the boxes on the far side of the room.

He nodded.

They were both silent for a very long time. “You...uh. You don't look like one.” Layla grimaced a little. “Sorry, is that rude? I don't know the protocol for this.”

“It's uh...” Rick pulled a little vial out of his pocket. His hands were shaking, a couple of pills clinked together at the bottom. “It's my m-meds. Suppressants. They're real hard to get a hold of, that's why most p-p-people don't use them.” He handed over the vial for Layla to inspect. “But, well...there's perks to being retired military. Hell of a health plan. You know as well as I do...”

“Rick, I...” she turned the vial over in her hand to read the rest of the label. “When did you-- How--”

He shrugged. “As much idea as anyone else. It started, or I…” he scratched at his chin. “Caught it? While I was still serving, near the tail end of it. Fifteen years ago?  It really does just...” Rick frowned and bit his lip. “...happen to you. All I know is that...this?” He patted his chest. “Isn't the real me anymore.”

Layla handed the vial back to him. “That's scary.”

They both went quiet again. There was a soft mewl in the hallway as the meowth found something new to play with.

“...You didn't have to wait this long to tell me.”

Rick still had it in him to snort at her. “You just said it was scary. What am I supposed to do?”

“That's _not_ what I meant!” Rick huddled into his corner of the couch as she stood up to yell at him more efficiently. “Don't twist my words around like that!”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

“You think you can just dump this on me this far into our-- our--!!” She forgot words for a second and made an encompassing gesture with her hands. ”-- and expect me to be hunky-dory with it?” She raised an angry fist. Rick tried to curl into a ball and disappear. “The hell do you expect me to say?!”

“ _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!_ ”

“Yeah Rick, how about that!? I'm scared! This is big, and I'm scared!

“ **_I'M SORRY!_ **” He couldn't stop the tears this time. They tore out of him with a giant, heaving sob. “I'M SCARED TOO!”

Layla stopped. She lowered her hand, slowly, and sank back onto the couch. “Stop crying,” she mumbled bitterly. Her eyes were plastered to the floor, but she could hear him choking back sobs next to her. He was soft. She knew he was soft, but it still puzzled her. Everyone he served with spoke so highly of him - that he was strong, loyal, hardened. She was in a different branch, and wouldn’t have known. She wondered if maybe he had just always been soft underneath it all. She wondered if she was too hard. Layla sighed.  

She finally looked at him again - watching for a while as he tried to wipe his tears away, but they just kept coming. “Ricky, it's...” she scooted a little closer to his side of the couch. “It's okay. You don't have to be scared.”

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Of course I do.”

“No, it's. I mean, morphs-- people go out in society like that all the time! There's like...there's laws now, you know? It's different than how it used to be. It’s not...”

Rick snorted back a glob of tears and snot and grumbled something bitter. Layla brought a hand up to touch his shoulder, and he shuddered a bit. “We have, like, a chansey in accounting. I dated a fearow for two weeks. And we both know Darryl, he's like. He's chief officer on Cinnabar! That's nuts, right?”

“Yeah, they like him 'cuz he's a growlithe.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My point is, this is much closer to normal than it used to be.”

He frowned and looked away from her. “ _Close_ to normal.”

There was a long pause. “...You're not that bad off. I mean...the meds.”

“If something huh-happened...if the meds ran out, or stopped working...” Rick took a breath to steady his voice. “I wanted you to know, so it wouldn't be a surprise.”

She leaned in to run her hand through his hair – a sensible blue, going gray at the temples. He craned his neck to lean into her touch. “It's better like this.”

They went quiet again. She stroked his hair while they both calmed down. After a few minutes, she gathered up the gumption to ask questions again. “Let me know if this is rude, too. But...what are you?”

“A graveler.”

She stopped petting him. “I don't know if I can date a rock.”

“Not like that. I mean, I don't look like a...” He made a circle with both hands. “I'm not shaped like a ball.”

“Oh thank Arceus.” Her expression turned thoughtful for a second. “Here's another rude one.”

“You've got a lot of these.”

“Can I see it?”

He sat up and looked at her like she had grown another head.

Layla crossed her arms indignantly. “If you're going to dump this on me, I think I deserve to see what you _'really'_ look like.” She made sure to make the air quotes around _'really_ ' nice and loud.

There was a flush starting to form on his cheeks. “W-Well, I uh. I thought you might say that. So. I...” Rick gulped. “So I skipped a dose earlier. And if I don't take one in the next..” His eyes darted to the far wall. “That clock's fast, right?”

“Huh? Oh, no that one's on time.”

There were the sweats again, realer and sweatier than ever. Rick jumped to his feet and started towards the bedroom door. “Hwuuuaaoohhkay so that g-g-gives me FIVE minutes and I'm gonna g-go in here and c-c-c-come out after it's done hopeyou'reokaywiththatseeyahoney--”

“Hey hey HEY get back here!” She got up and grabbed him before he could get anywhere. “Who gave you permission to leave, soldier?”

“You don't want to see this.” He tried to tug his arm away from her. He was getting frantic and it was all over his face. “You really, _really_ don't.”

“Don't tell me what I don't want!” She was yelling again, and once again it proved to be a great way to stop Rick from doing damn near anything. “If I can stay with you through this, I can stay through anything!”

He looked at her like she was growing heads again. “...You're serious.”

“Dead serious. _Crazy_ serious.” She frowned, determined. “And you're serious enough to tell me that you're some weirdo half-pokemon thing, when you could have just hidden that until it wasn't convenient.” Layla balled her fists and looked at the ground. She found herself fighting tears, this time. “But you didn't, because you...you...”

Rick bent over to kiss her on the forehead. “Because I love you.”

Layla looked up at him and took his hand. “I owe you this much.”

He pulled her against his body. He was well toned for a man his age. Layla flushed, ever so faintly. It was nice.

Rick took another steadying breath. “...Okay.” He raised a finger. “But! One thing before this happens.”

She looked up at him, determined. “I'm ready.”

“We have to get rid of Lola.”

“Meowf!”

Layla looked down at her meowth currently walking circles between their legs. “...That makes sense,” she mumbled, scooping up Lola in her arms. “Looo-laah! Who wants to go to bed?”

“Mwowwf.”

“Course you do, baybee. Let's get your toy and set you up.” she cooed as they both disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Rick to sit on the couch and watch the clock. She was back out with two minutes to spare, and wordlessly sat down next to him to wait. What for, she wasn't exactly sure.

She looked at him as the hands ticked slowly past 9:30. “So...how does this start?”

He wiped a line of sweat from his brow. “Well, the first time, when I…caught...this? It was slow. Weeks and weeks, slow.” He dabbed away more sweat with the edge of his shirt. “But when the pills wear off it’s _really_ fast. And it’s usually. Uh. She~eesh.” He took off the shirt he had over his tank and mopped the sweat off of his face with it. “Did your A/C break again?”

“Feels fine to me.” Layla scooted closer and slid her hand over his. “I think that’s a sign.”

“Yeah, that’s...uh...” He leaned his head back and tried to remember words. His head was spinning. The warmth in his forehead was spreading slowly towards his feet. “...how this usually...huhh…” He grabbed feebly at his tank. He was already sweating through it, and knew worse was coming. “I need to...I need…”

“Hold on, hold on. I’ve got you.” She leaned over and began to peel his tank off of him. His breathing was erratic and came in gasps, groans, whines. She watched his muscles twitch as his body struggled against itself. His torso was soaked in sweat. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Layla wondered how she was going to get this out of the cushions.

His skin was the first thing to turn - his whole body going a familiar shade of stoney gray. She thought about the granite path outside, about the rocks just offshore the last time he took her to Ula’Ula. The wave pools they explored, nestled in the rocks at the far end of the beach. The dumb fight they got into near the cliffs where she threatened to push him off. The edge of her mouth twitched upwards into a smile, despite everything.

Rick rolled his head back and moaned, jolting her out of her own mind. He was right, this was...a lot. But this was a commitment, and Layla was nothing if not stubborn. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder - and immediately pulled it away with a short gasp. She put it back slowly, tentatively, and grimaced as she felt his skin twitch and ripple under her palm. It pulsed and thickened, small divots and craggy bits raising like goosebumps under her fingers. She ran her hand towards his chest, brushing over strange hairline cracks that began to form criss-cross over his body.

Their eyes met again, just in time to see a particularly deep crack cut through the skin next to his right eye. Layla winced. “Does...that hurt?”

Rick shook his head weakly. “It's weird, but doesnt...uhhh…just…” He mumbled something Layla didn't catch. He tried to wipe away a thin line of drool, but dropped his hand halfway through. “...fuuhzzy...tingly...my head’s…warm…” He reached a hand towards her and she took it. He shook horribly, but she couldn't tell how much of it - if any - was from the change. “Lay-luuh...I'm s-s…” He interrupted himself with a low whine as the heat flowed into his chest. “I’m...soo-ree…I didn't want you to...”

Layla groaned. She was getting tired of the doting girlfriend schtick. She pulled her hand away from Rick’s and used it to bump his chin. “Shut up. I told you I'd be here for this. Don't give me that look!” Rick flushed and quickly darted his eyes away. She was amazed it still showed through under that...she wasn't sure what to call it. It felt more like a thick hide than skin.

But that was beside the point, she decided. Putting on her game face, she shuffled herself so that she was straddling Rick’s hips - despite whatever frenzied whining he was doing in protest. This was the Layla show now, damnit. “If you say sorry one more time, I'm breaking up with you. AND I’m backing out of the lease!”

Rick looked like he was going to cry again. For a moment, there was nothing but his breathing and the soft crackling as his skin changed.

“Okay?”

“O-kuh-k-kay.”

“Good man.” She smirked and patted his chest, just in time to feel it pulse strangely under her palm. Rick tried to stifle a particularly embarrassing moan as pressure began build in his chest. It felt like all of his muscles were lighting up, tensing, pulsing, more power flowing into them than they could contain. Everything felt tight. So tight. Building like the leadup to a-- to--

Layla felt something stir underneath her. “Ricky.”

Rick went red again. He was burning. He was _double_ burning. “O-oh. Oh shi--it. I can expla--aaah-AH--” his words devolved into jibberish as he felt all the muscles in his torso seize up.

Layla put both hands on his chest to steady herself as he writhed underneath her. She felt another pulse, but this one was especially weird. He felt different, all of a sudden. She cupped her hands over both pecs. Another hard pulse. She felt them swell into her hands, just a bit. “Holy shit,” she mumbled under her breath, leaning in further against him. The pulsing was getting faster, falling into line with his heartbeat. She could feel his chest heave, throb and expand with every beat, filling her hands, overflowing. She felt his abs ripple and harden under her stomach. Every muscle was on fire, twitching and pulsing and powerful, new and alive. He was huge, it was overwhelming, she tightened her grip reflexively on his pecs and heard Rick groan heavily in response.

She looked at him. He tried not to look at her. “I g-- I guess they’re sensitive.”

Layla felt a strange jolt of excitement. She brushed her fingers over one of his nipples and Rick’s whole body shivered. “Are they?”

“Ah...”

She took both hands and ran her fingers lightly over the skin just under his pecs. He shifted and moaned, loud and needy. She couldn’t stop the smile creeping across her face. “Are they.”

“Layl--aah-AAh--” He felt her hands slide down his stomach, her fingers brush against his sides.  “It’s too muh--uuchh…”

“Take it like a man, soldier.” He squirmed as she gave his chest another healthy squeeze. His body was enormous, thick, satisfying - and her hands were merciless as she groped and caressed his new mass, kneading into his chest and rubbing across his thick, toned stomach. Rick whined, he moaned, his cock twitched desperately against her leg. Every part of him was slick with sweat. She knew he was made of tougher stuff, but was still a little worried he might drown in his own drool at this rate.

“Don’t s-say that. I duhh-- I d-don’t need another Surge…ggk--” He grimaced and his breath hitched as his waist jumped up a size, straining hard against his belt. Layla reached a hand down to undo his buckle, and pull down his zipper for good measure. He breathed a looooong sigh of relief - just before Layla paired it with a rough tweak at one of his nipples and threw him right back into a panting, squirming mess.

“Heh! Ah. Sorry. Couldn't help myself.”

“You’re such a-- aauuUH--” There went his words again. The heat, crackling and powerful, began to flow into his limbs. He felt his arms twitch and strain as the warmth washed over them. He grumbled low in the back of his throat, wrapping both of his arms around Layla, pressing her harder against himself.

“Hey.” She fluttered her fingers teasingly over his skin to get his attention. “Who said we were hugging.”

Rick craned his neck, rolling his head against the back of the couch. “Uh-h-huh. I m-mean, since you’re having a guhh--- a good time down there…” Layla caught the whites of his teeth from her angle - a rare, mischievous sneer. It was a long way up. She squinted. Was he taller? “...I f-figured you might like this next part.”

“What are you talking abo--OH” He wasn’t moving his arms, but she felt herself pressed further against his body. The familiar throbbing now surrounded her. His arms groaned and pulsed as they gained mass. His new biceps were huge, thick, she squirmed against him as they pressed in tighter and tighter around her. He bucked his hips as his thighs swelled underneath her. She felt his cock prod at her again as their hips ground together roughly. She pressed her face deep into his cleavage in a desperate attempt to muffle the embarrassing, breathy moans coming out of her. She was being crushed, smothered in heat and flesh driven by the steady throb of his heart. It was so much. It was _too_ much. She was either going to die, or come, or explode. Maybe all three at once.

All at once she felt every part of him give a final, rough heave - then settle placidly into their new mass. Rick sighed contently as all the tension drained out of him like an open faucet. Layla’s face was still buried in his chest while she tried to recover from what felt like the edge of several world-shattering experiences.

“Yyww mfutherffuffer.”

“Hm?”

She looked up at him, her face a vibrant, beet red. Rick tried to hold back a laugh and snorted anyway. Layla smacked her fist against his chest and it bounced off like it was nothing. “You did that on purpose!”

Rick gave her a lopsided grin. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Jerk.” She reached up to flick his forehead, and realized she was reaching farther than she was used to. He must have been at least a foot taller than before.

Layla leaned back so she could get a better look at him. He was huge - twice the man he used to be, literally. His new (his real?) body was ridiculously top-heavy - his pecs huge and taut, his shoulders so wide Layla wondered how he could possibly fit through doors. His arms were-- ludicrous, that’s the only way she could think to describe them.  Veins bulged under his skin without him even lifting a finger.

She traced her fingers along his collarbone, drawing a long, low hum from the back of his throat. It was like running her hand over a rough, porous granite. Occasionally her fingers would glide over a divot, or a craggy mass, or a strange hairline crack. Pulling at the cracks separated the skin ever so slightly - releasing pressure allowed it to settle back into place. Not as soft as skin, but certainly still malleable.

She laid a hand gently on his cheek and he mumbled something soft and tired. It struck her odd how warm he still was, especially when she expected something closer to real stone. He reminded her of a rock left out on the beach, baking in the sun.

Her legs were starting to ache from straddling him, so she rolled over and nestled against his side instead. “...So! Sooo.” She tapped a finger placidly on his stomach. “Was it weird for you too?”

Rick slung his arms across the backrest. “We’re not done with the weird.”

“Scuse me?”

Rick sighed. Something just below his ribs throbbed low and placid, as if in response. “How many arms does a graveler have?”

“Oh hell, no one I know uses a graveler. Give me a hint.”

Siiiigh. “It’s got four.”

“It’s got--” She looked up at him. He looked away. Before she could get the next words out, something alien dug into her side. She yelped and scuttled back, just in time to see-- “Oh shit ohhh shit that’s gonna be an arm ooohhhhyou’rerightthat’sweird.”

Rick grimaced. They could hear the soft crackling of bone forming inside the flesh pushing out from his sides. Longer, thicker, biceps and triceps pushing through and forming familiar shapes, a sharp crack as it bent at the elbow. Strange new muscles were forming just above his abs, between the pectorals and the bottom of the ribcage. A set of minor pectorals built to support his new limbs. His chest tensed and twitched, one of his still-forming arms flexed upwards as the hand came in next. It was like watching a machine build itself.

Layla cautiously reached a hand out to touch the one forming in front of her. “Okay, that...that _has_ to hurt. Right?”

Rick shook his head. “I’m still, u-uh...warm, I guess. There’s pressure...but it’s not as much as...uhh…” He shifted himself to give his arms more room. “Just feels weird...I’m still kinda dizzy...

There were palms now, then fingers. She let him rest his hand in hers as his phalanges set in place with a series of sharp snaps. She set her other hand on top, feeling over the rough hide, the tendons, the joints in both fingers...wait. “Do the rest of them come later?”

“The rest of...” He looked at Layla, looked at his hand, looked at-- “Ah, shit.” He was suddenly much more lucid as he scrunched over to reach one of his boots. “Help me get the other one off. This is gonna hurt in a sec.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, reaching down to untie his other boot.

“Just, the last part of it’s a pain.” He slipped off his boots and socks, and leaned back into the couch to wait. “If I'm wearing shoes, my feet don't have anywhere to go.”

She squinted at him quizzically. Her eyes glided over to the boot in Rick’s hand, and she noticed his five fingers were already slowly reconfiguring themselves into four, then three. More cracking and straining as bones and joints merged. He wriggled his toes as they followed suit - crack, crunch, four, then just three. Layla decided she would have to look up a photo of a damn graveler later, because she could only assume that was the right amount of toes they had.

As the last of the changes crawled to a stop he passed a hand in front of him, flipped it front and back as he examined it. When he clenched his hand it was alien - human parts, but strangely proportioned and in wrong amounts. His digits were huge and thick, heavily knotted at the joints. Uncanny.

They were both quiet for a long time - longer than all the other awkward pauses they had gone through that night. You could drive a train through it. Rick folded all of his hands in his lap and mumbled something that Layla couldn’t catch. “Huh?”

“M’srry”

“Words, hun.”

“I was trying to apologize.” Rick leaned his head all the way back against the couch. “But I remembered you’d break up with me.”

“That’s definitely still in effect, by the way.” They went silent again. “I’m not sure what to say.”

Rick found a fly loitering on the ceiling and focused on that instead of wanting to die. “Me neither.”

Pause. You could drive _two_ trains through it, and still have time to crash a third.

“I feel like an animal.”

“You’re not an animal.”

Rick shook his head and laughed bitterly. “Of course I am.”

“Listen, I mean...yeah, this is weird. This is, like, _WAY_ weird, and I’m still not _totally_ convinced it’s not an awful nightmare I got stuck in.” She put a hand on his thigh. “But you could’ve grown five more heads and you’d still be the same Ricky.”

He snarled. She caught a flash of teeth and gums. “I haven’t been Ricky in years.”

She didn’t have a comeback for that. She wondered again if he had always been soft.

“...I’m sorry. You can break up with me now.”

“I’m not breaking up with you.”

Rick brought a hand up to rub his temple. He wasn’t sure where that fly had gone. “I’d break up with me.”

She punched him in the arm and he grunted. “Good thing you’re not dating yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”

He grumbled. She smacked his arm again for good measure. “Yeah, so get used to it! Turns out I love you, moron!”

Rick flushed hard and tried to find that fly again. “I love you too.”

“Glad we’re in agreement.” She patted the spot where she had hit him. “We can figure out the...everything else later. This was a lot for one night.” Layla realized she had punched two different arms and the bizarreness of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. “...a lot for both of us.”

He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Layla, and it was pissing her off. She got up on her knees so she could properly grab his chin and yank his face towards hers. “Rick! I’m telling you, we’ll figure this out.” She was having trouble keeping up the tough facade with their eyes locked, with their faces so close together. “Please believe me.” She leaned in closer, until she could feel his breath. It was still warm, and human.

Layla leaned in for a kiss, and Rick reflexively jerked back. “I c-can’t. Not like this. Not when I’m--” He squeezed his eyes shut. His hands were shaking again, he hated being so aware of how many he had. “I d-don’t want to touch you.”

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered back, tracing the edge of his jaw with her finger. She cupped his face gently and he melted like warm butter into her hands. She shifted, moving them both lengthwise across the couch, her back against the armrest. The couch groaned under Rick’s new weight as he adjusted himself above her.

His lips were still soft. His mouth was still warm. She was grateful, even as she felt his tongue slip in. It was bigger than she remembered, but otherwise the same as always. Her hands explored his neck - thick as a tree trunk, tendons flexing and straining as they kissed. She dug her fingers into his massive back as he pressed against her, his huge frame pushing her deeper into the cushions. His hands went to work - all of them, on as many parts of her as he could. She felt them tug down her pants and glide across her thighs, grab at her ass, pull teasingly at her waistband. She was overwhelmed by how much of her he could touch and caress at once. She pressed herself against the hand rubbing her through her underwear. One of them slid beneath her shirt to cup her breast, and the strangeness of it forced a low moan out of her. The way his new hands felt against her skin was foreign, but his touch was tender and familiar. She missed the rest of his fingers and felt a twinge of regret for thinking that way.

She shifted her leg to give him more skin, and her thigh brushed against his cock again. “Thats--” she tapped on his shoulder to get him to slow down. “That feels different.”

“Mph?”

She was already exploring his crotch. “Did you-- ah--” Her hands carefully mapped out his cock through his underwear. “Is it-- did that get--”

He smiled helplessly at her. “About as big as the rest of me.”

Layla tugged his cock out into the open. Well...that was pretty impressive. It was definitely in proportion with his new size. Same colour as the rest of him, and much to her relief he still only had the one.

Still…

“Rick, I--” She wrapped a pair of fingers around the shaft and grimaced. “I don’t think I can take this.”

“Oh.” He sounded a little disappointed.

“...I can practice. But tonight, no way.”

“Oh, no. That’s…” He looked down at himself.  “I totally get that.”

“Here, at least I can…” She wrapped her hand around the shaft and stroked it slowly to start. “...Wow.”

“Wow?”

“It just--” She ran her fingers lightly towards the head. Her other hand reached under to cup his balls. “It feels different.”

Rick let out a shaky breath. “Does it?”

“Yeah. It’s smoother than everywhere else, but still kind of gritty. Like, ah…” She closed her eyes and ran her finger in a lazy circle over the head of his cock. Rick grunted next to her ear. She felt precum leak into her hand. “Like the rocks we always find on the beach.”

“That’s-- ah--” He took a breath and tried to gather his thoughts as Layla fondled his balls. “It all feels the same to me.”

“Course it does, you’re made of the stuff.” She kneaded her thumb roughly against the base of the shaft and felt his cock twitch. “It’s really nice, actually.”

“I’ll take...your word...for it…” he managed to force out between pants. She was getting faster now, both hands working his cock, soaked in his own sweat and precum. She pumped her hands roughly up and down his shaft, pushing him closer and closer towards completion. He squirmed in her grip - his face, sopping with sweat and drool, buried in her shoulder as he teetered on the edge of orgasm. She slowed down just enough to drag out the last few seconds, running her fingers across the underside of his shaft, tracing the veins onward and upward, teasing the tip with her--

Rick panted, whimpered, moaned loud into her shoulder as his body finally gave it up. His whole frame seizing, his hips bucking as cum splattered against his chest, and her chest, and the poor abused couch. It felt like it lasted forever, he couldn’t remember the last time he had come so hard. He couldn’t remember anything. It felt like every synapse in his brain exploded like fireworks.

The orgasm faded away, slowly. He slumped over onto Layla, who struggled to keep him supported so he wouldn’t crush her to death. She sighed contently and patted him on the back as he floated in the afterglow. “Atta boy.”

He hummed and nuzzled against her neck. Layla fumbled on the end table for a box of tissues, and they both went quiet again while she wiped as much cum off of her chest as she could. Eventually Rick pieced enough of his brain back together to form words again. “...I’m sorry about the couch.”

“What? Oh…” Layla shifted on top of a particularly soggy cushion. “I think we’ve killed it.”

Rick yawned - or yaaaaaawned really, for how long it was. “I’ll wash them tomorrow.”

“That sounds like bedtime.” She felt him shake his head next to her. “C’mon bud, you’re exhausted and so am I.”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, kissing her neck. “I want to thank you.”

Before she could say anything, he was flipping both of them over and suddenly found herself sprawled on top of him. “Hey,” Layla tapped her fist against his chest. “What gives.”

Rick smiled up at her and motioned towards his face with one finger. “C’mon, before I really do fall asleep.

Oh. _Ooooh._ Layla beamed at him and scrambled towards his head, ditching her undies on the way. She kneeled above him and steadied herself, his head gripped firmly between her thighs. She gave his hair an appreciative ruffle before lowering herself squarely onto his face, settling comfortably on his strong jaw. She sighed contently as everything fell into place like normal.

Layla jumped as she felt his tongue enter her, and would have tumbled off had Rick not caught her. She had forgotten how much bigger that was now. He placed a pair of hands on her back and another on her legs to keep her steady as he worked. He was slow and deliberate, working the flat of his tongue against her, gliding the tip around her clit. He shifted under her for a better angle - she shuddered as his stubble scratched against her thighs. She dug her fingers into his hair, pressing herself against his mouth, desperate.

He pushed back in turn and his lips parted against hers, taking all of her in. His tongue slid roughly against her clit and then began to work around it in slow, agonizing circles. Layla felt her hips move of their own accord, her hands knotted into fists in his hair as she fought against release. Rick made a low, rumbling hum that she could feel reverberate in her whole body. She felt herself teetering on the edge, and then Rick flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit. She shivered and tried to force down a moan as he did it again, and again, teasing her mercilessly towards release until a final, slow push finally shoved her over the edge.

It started in her soles and quickly flooded the rest of her body, every nerve lighting up like fireworks. She finally let a low groan escape her throat as her whole body quaked, as the sweat poured down her face. When the shakes finally stopped after what seemed like forever, Rick took his hands off and let Layla flop onto her back. He said something she only vaguely heard beyond the fog. She was still seeing stars, floating in and out of lucid thought until she finally floated out for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

He had this incredibly specific way he liked his eggs, sunny-side up and _always_ over easy. Layla watched as he placed one on top of his toast, carefully lifted up the side with his fork, poked a hole in the bottom with his knife, and laid it back down as the yolk leaked out onto the bread.

Layla blinked. She had barely noticed he was doing it with two fingers per hand. She supposed he’d had enough time to practice.

“Meowf?”

“No, Lola, that's Ricky’s.” She nudged the meowth under the table gently with her foot. “You have food.”

“Rowf.”

She sighed. At least Lola seemed to recognize him.

Rick hummed thoughtfully through a mouthful of egg. “So...I have to wait another hour until I can take my suppressants.” He made a wobbly motion with one of his (several) free hands. “If you take them off schedule it’s kind of a disaster.”

“I've noticed.”

Rick smiled helplessly at his eggs. “Sorry. They work pretty fast...half an hour tops, promise.”

Layla tapped a finger against her mug. “I lost track of sorries, let's just say I'm breaking up with you five times and call it good.”

Rick shoved another forkful into his mouth. His face turned serious for a moment, before-- “Layla. We're not actually…”

She reached across the table to flick his forehead. “You're an idiot.”

Rick smiled at her, the first genuine and unapologetic smile she'd seen in hours. “Sorry.”

…

“Did you really date a fearow?”

“It’s complicated. Eat your eggs.”

 

* * *

 

“Ricky? HAH! Yeah, he's a real wuss. Always been. I mean…” Surge hefted a set of barbells back onto the rack. “That boy's one of the finest soldiers I've ever seen, but outside of duty he's...what's a good word…”

“Soft.”

“YEAH! The boy’s soft. He's emotional.” He began resetting the weights on the bench press. “What a baby.”

“Moreso now, you’d think?”

“I'd say so.” 

Layla tapped her foot impatiently. “Wonder what coulda done that.”

Surge sucked on his teeth. “You kinda lose your edge during retirement.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that right.”

He tapped a finger against the bars. “That's right.”

“Surge.”

“ _Lieutenant._ ”

“You weren't my division.” She crossed her arms. “Did you know?”

He frowned. “Know what.”

“That he's seven feet tall and made of rocks, for one.”

Surge planted both hands on his face. “Fucking idiot.”

“You knew.”

“Course I knew! I was his commanding officer when he started to...ugh.” He rubbed his temples. “Thought he wanted those pills so bad to _prevent_ this.”

“He’s honest--”

“To a fault.” 

“--and wanted me to know, in case something happened.”

“Did you see it?”

Layla nodded.

Surge pursed his lips and looked away. “It took weeks, y’know. We thought he was dying. Thought the arms were tumors till the hands came in.”

She approached him. “Is that why he left?”

Surge laughed bitterly. “That was two years before he left! My higher-ups, they quarantined him while they figured out if he was contagious...” He frowned deeply. “And then they figured out he was useful.”

Layla raised her eyebrows, arms still crossed over her chest.

“Nothin’ gets through his hide. I’ve seen him punch a hole through a steel door. He picked up an ATV once and threw it.” He finally looked at her again. “The boy’s a living tank. Of course they put him on the front lines.”

Pause. Someone yelled something distant in the stadium part of the gym.

“I think me and Wattson were the only people who stuck by him.”

“He seems pretty popular at reunions.”

Surge laughed again, sharp and hateful. “Hah! Slugs, the lot of ‘em. Only reason they can stand being around them now is ‘cuz he’s on those suppressants.” He frowned. His voice dropped. “Back when this first happened, his old squad buddies wouldn’t go near him. The commanding officers warned their teams to stay away. They just…”

Pause. A light at the end of the hall behind Surge switched off. The sound of a door shutting, the jingle of bolts locking.

“They treated that boy like an animal.”

Layla looked at the ground.

Surge smiled bitterly and shook his head. “But here’s me, runnin’ my mouth about old news.” He grabbed his gym bag and made his way to the exit. “If he trusts you enough to rope you into his crazy bullshit, good for him.” He patted Layla on the shoulder as he passed her. “You take care of that boy.”

Layla heard the door swing open behind her. “Please.”

Click.

Layla dug her fingers into her arm and grit her teeth at the floor. Crazy bullshit. Crazy, _crazy_ bullshit. She wasn’t sure she wanted any of it. What if something _did_ happen? What if there were complications she couldn’t even dream of? She thought about that fearow she dated, thought about the stares, wondered if she was ready to do that again.

Danny. His name was Danny. She felt a twinge of guilt for not using it until now. She wondered if she was part of the problem. She wondered if she was all of it.

Her thoughts were racing. Her nails pressed red marks into her arm. She thought about the life she and Rick had started building together, before she knew anything. While he knew everything. Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach. She could’ve killed him. She could’ve marched home right then and-- and--...

She thought about how Rick had smiled at her that morning. Slowly she released her grip on herself. She remembered how he had melted into her hands, and she felt the tension melt off of her shoulders. He didn’t want to hide from her anymore. She felt like she should be thankful, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to feel that way.

Layla thought about how much she missed the rest of his fingers again. She sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere tonight. She would see him again tomorrow, and he would look perfectly normal. That would have to be okay, for now.

She made sure to turn the lights off on the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know OCs are a hard sell in fanfic land, but I've had this sitting on my computer for over a year and decided I wanted to finally release it into the void. #teameggsontoast


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